Treasures
by Silverwavesparkling
Summary: The Brotherhood boys each have a treasure hidden in their bedroom.


AN: This story got inspired by a smallish part of a song from Simon and Garfunkel.

"Long ago ... it must be ...  
I have a photograph  
Preserve your memories  
They're all that's left you."

As always, the characters are not mine. And I am no English native speaker, so you probably find some mistakes, as the story is not betaread. But I hope you can read around them.

**Treasures**

It was an old house. Many people had lived in it. Life had started in it and life had ended in it. There had been laughter in its rooms, as well as tears and shouts of anger. Girls, boys, men and women had called this house "home" over centuries.

In the present day it was still a home. It did not look as well kept as it once had. Water was leaking through the roof. Some windows were broken. Some walls were damp and had fissures in them. And the once white paint on the wooden walls outside was green with moss, yellow with age, grey with fumes, brown with dirt and pretty much every other color with graffiti. But it was a home nonetheless. To be precise it was home to four adolescent boys.

If one looked at the boys and talked with them, one would find them very different from each other.

One was tall, another small. One was fat, another skinny. One had long brown hair, another short white hair. One smelled fresh, another sickening. One had tanned skin, another pale skin. One talked fast, another slow. One was friendly, another grouchy. One was smart, another dimwitted. One loved hard rock, another country music. One ate bugs, another cereal. ...

But despite their differences, there were things that united them all. In each of their youthful faces life had already carved lines of hardship, of fear and of worry. And in each pair of eyes, no matter if they were brown or blue, there was sadness and anger and pain. And each of their hearts was scared to trust and to love.

But each of them had once known a little love. For none of them it had lasted very long, but they had kept it in their souls and it helped them to cling to life and to not give up.

When it was dark outside and when the wind rattled on the old roof tiles or when heavy raindrops fell against the windows, than the boys often lay awake in their bedrooms listening to the noise outside and letting their minds wander.

Each of them had a treasure hidden in their room. And especially in these nights, were sleep seemed hard to come by, they felt the need to touch them.

Neither of them had ever seen the treasures of the others or even knew about them. They did not talk about their past, not much. They did not share their feelings of fear or loneliness with each other, but they all found a balm for their wounds in their treasures, hidden under the bed, or in the desk, or in the wardrobe, or in an old box.

Their treasures had more value to them, than any gold, any gem or any money could have had and they would have run through fire to save them, if necessary.

In one stormy night big feet moved over to a desk as silently as possible. A bottom drawer was opened and a hand searched the very back of it, till it finally closed around the treasure.

Fred stared down at the old, broken pocket watch. On the backside it said in golden letters: Thomas Frederick Dukes.

When they boy read that name he could smell it again, the tobacco that his grandpa Tom used to smoke. He could hear his deep voice humming, as he sat in front of the crackling fireplace in his rocking chair on the old farm where they had lived. And he could feel again the strong hand that ruffled through his blond hair and let him know, that he was loved.

And then Fred wished for, what he always wished for: That grandpa Tom could have stayed with him and that he had not left earth when Fred was 9 years old. He wished that he could feel his love once more.

In another room dirty feet tiptoed over the creaking floorboards. An old box was opened and a hand searched through the content, till it finally closed around the treasure.

Todd stared down at the silver, oval shaped brooch. When he let his fingers glide over the lines of the rose imprinted on it, it was for him as if he would be sitting in his mother´s lap again, his head leaning against her chest. He heard her heart beating and he felt her chest moving up and down with the deep breath of slumber. He even could smell her again - cheep perfume, smoke, sweat, alcohol – maybe not a nice smell for many, but for him it was mom. And he loved his mom. And sometimes in her sleep she would even stroke his head and murmur "darling".

And then Todd wished for, what he always wished for: That his mom would have stayed with him, when he turned out to be different than other children. That she had not left for somewhere with that new lover, when he was 11 years old. He wished that he could feel her love once more.

In the room opposite dark tanned feet shuffled over the ground. The door of a wardrobe slowly turned in its hinges and a hand searched for the pocket of an old jacket, till it found the right one, slipped in and closed around the treasure.

Lance stared down at the old photograph. Smiling into the camera, were his mom, his dad, his brothers Michael and David and he, Lance.

When he looked into their faces he heard their voices again and their laughter. He heard his little brothers shriek through time. The same as, when he had tickled them merciless as "punishment" for the one or other prank they had played on him. He smelled the lasagna that his mom made so well and saw her shaking her head with a smiling face, when he, like always, had stuffed too much of his favourite food into his mouth. He felt his dad´s hand patting his shoulder again, like the day they together had managed to get the old car running again. "Well done, boy!" he had said. That had been the last time someone had said words like these to him.

And then Lance wished for, what he always wished for: That his family had not died in that accident. That he would not be the one who had been left alone in this world, when he was 10 years old. He wished that he could feel their love once more.

In the last room pale feet found their way out from under the thin blanket and the slender form of a body bend under the dark bed. A hand searched between the mattress and the slatted frame till it felt, what it was looking for and closed around the treasure.

Pietro stared down at the dirty rag with one button eye that had been Wanda´s "teddy bear" for years.

When he pressed it against his nose and breathed in deeply he imagined he still could smell his sister on it. When he cuddled it to his chest, he pretended it was Wanda and her arms were around him, just like they had been when they had slept in some corner on the streets. When he brushed it over his cheeks, it was as if she once more brushed away the tears running down his face and whispered soothing words in his ear or hummed the lullaby that in a time even further away, nearly gone from memory, had been sung to them by someone.

And then Pietro wished for, what he always wished for: That, if she had had to stay in that place to get better, he had stayed with her. That he had not climbed in his father´s car and left her alone, when they were 9 years old. He wished that he could feel her love once more.

After they had made their wishes they hid their treasures again and climbed back into their beds. Here they lay, stared into darkness or hugged themselves tightly till sleep found them...and sometimes, only sometimes, they even cried a little... very silently.

Four boys and their treasures, together, alone, in an old house they want to call home.

The End


End file.
